


The Painting

by the_savage_daughter_0627



Series: Why Don't You Be the Artist? [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Avatar & Benders Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Artists, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Tension, Badass Katara (Avatar), Budding Love, F/M, Fluff, Inspired by Avatar: The Last Airbender, Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, Katara (Avatar)-centric, Long Shot, Modern Era, One Shot, Romance, Zuko (Avatar)-centric, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:07:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26851906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_savage_daughter_0627/pseuds/the_savage_daughter_0627
Summary: Katara is roped into attending an art gallery by her boss, where his nephew's work is being displayed. She runs into a pretty cute guy with an interesting scar by a painting. He asks what she thinks, she critiques it, and then things get real awkward, real quick.Written for Zutara Week 2020 prompt "Celestial". Reposted.
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: Why Don't You Be the Artist? [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1987420
Comments: 38
Kudos: 230
Collections: Add to Zutara Masterlist





	The Painting

**Author's Note:**

> Because I'm trash and never finished writing the other prompts for Zutara Week 2020, I'm reposting them as individual One-Shots :)
> 
> Also, here's the link to the Zutara fanart that inspired this one-shot:  
> https://www.deviantart.com/artcrawl/art/Zutara-Week-Day-2-Reincarnation-Part-2-748479945

Katara walked into the art gallery thinking she would much rather be at home with a glass of rosé and a bowl of popcorn while she binge-watched  _ New Girl. _ But the gallery was showcasing her boss’s nephew’s artwork, and he had invited her personally, so she couldn’t very well tell him no.

So she was now stuck here for at least an hour (at which point she thought it would be alright to take her leave; that was a polite enough amount of time, wasn’t it?), looking at the various canvases hanging beneath spotlights and the sculptures on stands scattered about the crowded gallery. 

She was amazed by how many people there were. The gallery was by no means small, but there was barely enough room to move around to look at the art. The size of the crowd was nearly enough to have her going right back out the door, but at that moment, her boss, Iroh, spotted her. His face lit up and he called her name, beckoning her forward.

Katara put a smile on her face and maneuvered through the crowd until she reached him. Iroh was standing with the head of marketing, an ambitious fellow Katara knew in passing. She worked in editing and rarely interacted with others outside of her department, but she was pretty sure his name was Cho. Or something.

“Miss Katara, I am so glad you could make it,” Iroh said as a greeting as he pressed a flute of champagne into her hands. “I’m sure you know Zhao from marketing.”

Katara turned her people-pleaser smile toward him. “It’s nice to see you,” she said.

“Likewise,” Zhao said, raising his glass to her.

Iroh searched the sea of faces. “I am trying to find my nephew, but he seems to have disappeared on me.” He chuckled and winked at Katara. “He’s a bit shy.”

Katara sipped the champagne. It was sweet and bubbly on her tongue. “There’s quite a crowd.” She cast her eyes at the various works of art. “There seems to be a big display here.”

“Oh yes. Thirty artists are being showcased tonight. My nephew is one of them.” The pride in Iroh’s voice was palpable. “It is a rare opportunity for him, but I feel he deserves it. He is an incredibly talented artist.”

Before Katara could say anything else, Iroh saw someone else, and he and Zhao departed with a quick goodbye. She knocked back the rest of the champagne and edged her way through the crowd. If she was there, she might as well try to enjoy the art.

Although she was talentless in that department, she had an eye for art. It was why she was an up-and-comer in editing at Iroh’s advertising company, the Jasmine Dragon. But that didn’t mean this was how she wanted to spend her Friday night.

A server swept her empty glass from her fingers and replaced it with a fresh flute of bubbly, which Katara sipped at more delicately than the first. She had decided to wear heels to this event, and it wouldn’t do to get tipsy on the champagne and trip over her own two feet.

She made her way into a less-crowded room and exhaled a sigh of relief. At least she could breathe in here.

Katara drifted slowly from display to display, sipping the champagne as she inspected the various artworks. Watercolors, acrylics, oils—all kinds of canvases hung from the walls. Sculptures made of glass, clay, wood, and more were placed on stands throughout the room. She didn’t linger long on any of them, only enough to critique or admire them. 

She passed into another room, this one even less crowded than the first. Her eyes were immediately drawn to a large acrylic painting hanging from the far wall. It was illuminated by a light hung above it, and it almost seemed to call to her.

Katara crossed the room until she stood in front of it.

It was beautiful, really. But that wasn’t what had caught her eye.

The centerpiece of the canvas was a woman in red robes that fell from her tanned shoulders. Her skin was painted with silver stripes and a golden crescent moon was on her forehead. Her brown hair cascaded over her shoulders and seemed to disappear into the ocean’s wave behind her. A masked man crouched before her, his hands reaching out to her. His mask was blue and white and seemed to depict a dragon or spirit of some kind. A sword hung from his waist. Below him, a red serpentine dragon coiled around him and the woman. Above them, two koi fish, one white and one black, circled each other. A full moon peeked out from behind the clouds and the waves. The woman was looking down at the man with sadness in her ocean eyes.

So yes, it was beautiful. It was unlike anything Katara had ever seen, in fact. But the most startling part of it all, what had caught her attention, was the woman in the painting. She bore a striking resemblance to Katara.

Subconsciously, Katara stepped closer to the painting. She stood close enough to the canvas that she could see every detail, including where the artist had swiped his brush over the rough surface. She stared hard at the woman. Her blue eyes, round nose, and full lips mirrored Katara’s own. Even the shade of her skin was the same. 

It was eerie. 

“What do you think of it?”

Katara startled and nearly spilled her champagne down the front of her blouse. She looked over and saw someone had joined her by the canvas. 

A young man with a scar. Katara was no expert, but if she had to guess, it was probably a burn. A bad one, from the looks of it. He was dressed sort of casually in a pair of black trousers and brown Doc Martens. He wore a dark red hoodie over a white button-down shirt and a backpack was slung over one shoulder. 

The corner of his lips pulled up when he saw her jump. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Katara composed herself. “It’s quite alright. You’re just...quiet.”

“Or you were engrossed in the painting.” He nodded toward the canvas. “So, what do you think?”

Katara turned her eyes back to the canvas. Her editor’s mind kicked into gear. “It’s interesting, to say the least. I can see the celestial theme the artist was going for—the moon, the clouds, the koi fish that represent Yin and Yang. And balance seems to be a theme, too. But it falls a little short of its mark. If the artist had chosen more well-known figures to depict, like Tui and Agni, for example, it would be more impactful.”

“I disagree,” the young man said. “I think the artist captured exactly what he meant. But I suppose you would have to know some of the more obscure legends to understand it.”

Katara frowned at him, but the young man didn’t see it. He was studying the painting. Katara looked for a plaque with the artist’s name, but the only plaque named the piece:  _ Celestial _ . 

She took a moment to study the man beside her. She figured he was her age or maybe a little older. He was tall and lean, with a strong jawline and a slightly-hooked nose. But she couldn’t help but notice that even with the scar, he was handsome.

“What legends are they, then?” Katara asked blithely. She sipped her champagne, which was now losing its fizz.

“The Painted Lady and the Blue Spirit,” the man replied. “The Painted Lady was a River spirit, and the Blue Spirit was once known as the Dragon King. He hated the Spirit World and spirits so much that he forbade his people from worshipping them.”

“Why did he hate spirits?”

He didn’t take his eyes off the canvas. “He hated them because he thought his people loved and worshipped them more than they did him.”

“The Dragon King sounds like a narcissist,” Katara remarked.

The young man chuckled. “Yeah, he was. Anyway, the legend goes that one night the Dragon King saw a beautiful woman sitting on the banks of the river. She was crying. He tried to comfort her, but she ran away. But she returned every night. Eventually he was able to talk to her., and soon after that he fell in love. But when he found out she was a Spirit, he became angry. He killed her in a fit of rage, and didn’t realize what he had done until it was too late. Overcome with grief, he drowned himself in the river.”

Katara arched a brow. “That’s some depressing sourcework.” 

The corner of his mouth tugged up in a smile. “The best inspirations come from raw emotions. That’s what the artist is trying to capture here.”

“I don’t see it.” Katara studied the painting again. But all she saw was her face on the Painted Lady’s. 

“That’s because you didn’t hear the rest of the legend.” He looked at her then. Katara saw humor dancing in his golden eyes. “The Dragon King was reborn as the Blue Spirit. He was cursed to wander the oceans and rivers. After many years, he found that his love had been reincarnated as a human girl. She remembered him, and what he had done to her in her past life, and she shunned him for it. The Blue Spirit begged for her forgiveness, acknowledging his bigotry and foolishness. That’s what the artist is showing.”

“Does she forgive him?” Katara asked, drawn into the story in spite of herself. She studied the Painted Lady’s face,  _ her  _ face, closer. Her eyes were sad as she looked down on the Blue Spirit.

“No,” the young man answered. 

“Again, that’s depressing.” Katara finished off her champagne. “So the dragon is obviously meant to symbolize the Dragon King. What about the koi fish? Where do they factor in?”

“They symbolize the Painted Lady and the Blue Spirit. Yin and Yang, push and pull. Balance.” The man shrugged. “It’s poetic.”

“Mm-hm.” Katara wondered if he could see the similarity between her and the Painted Lady. “I still think the artist could have chosen a better way to show what he was going for. Obscure legends aren’t everyone’s cup of tea.”

“They’re mine.” She could hear the amusement in his tone.

“Not mine,” Katara said. She gestured to the painting. “The artist is talented. I’ll give them that. But there’s still some flaws to the work, outside of the obscure symbolism.”

“And what flaws are those?” he drawled. Katara could see the amused half-smile on his face. It was rubbing her the wrong way.

“The lighting is off. It’s a bit stilted, to be honest. It doesn’t flow well with the rest of the work,” Katara said. “They don’t look like they’re being illuminated by the moon at all. They’re cast in darkness.” She gestured toward the clouds. “And the artist got sloppy here. The brush strokes were too broad in some places, and too small in others. The colors don’t blend as smoothly.”

“So because you don’t understand the message of the painting, you’re going to nit-pick the tiny details?” He snorted. 

A couple had come up to see the painting. Katara stepped aside, willing to let the conversation be over, but the striking young man apparently wasn’t done talking to her as he came to stand beside her.

Katara scowled at him. “This is what I do for a living. It’s my job to point out the small details.”

“Oh?”

“Oh.” She gestured to the piece, her movement jerky with her irritation. And probably a bit of the champagne. “I would never approve a piece that is so obviously flawed.”

“Then I guess it’s good for the artist that you aren’t in charge of his work, isn’t it?”

Katara narrowed her eyes at the scarred man. “You keep saying ‘him’. Do you know who the artist is? There’s no name.”

His eyes glittered mischievously. “Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.” He looked around the room. “Most people come to art galleries to get tipsy on champagne and admire the artwork. Do you usually come to critique it?”

“I don’t usually come to these at all,” Katara answered, a bit sharply. She sighed. She was being rude, when this guy was just trying to make conversation. She had let herself get carried away, had slipped into an analytical state of mind. The young man was right—she should have been enjoying the art, not criticizing it. She gave him an apologetic smile. “My boss invited me. His nephew’s art is being displayed and he’s quite proud of him. I couldn’t exactly tell him no.”

“I get it. I’d rather not be here myself.” The crooked smile was back. “I’m something of an introvert.”

“And yet you struck up a conversation with a stranger,” Katara pointed out. 

“You just seemed interesting,” he said. “And you seemed very engrossed in the painting, so I thought I’d see what you liked about it.” He chuckled. “Though I guess you didn’t like much about it, did you?”

“I  _ do _ like it,” Katara said defensively. She was just off-put by the resemblance, but she couldn’t very well tell that to a stranger. “The artist did a great job capturing her grief. The tears in her eyes almost look real. Whoever painted this is quite talented.”

“Wow, an actual compliment. Thank you.”

Katara whipped her head around to face him. It swam a bit from the champagne. “Wait... _ you  _ painted this?” 

He was fully grinning now, white teeth flashing, obviously pleased at the way he had caught her off-guard. And he  _ had _ caught her off guard. She never would have anticipated it. She stared at him with her mouth agape.

Then she glared at him. “And you let me sit here and talk shit about your piece without saying  _ anything _ ?” An embarrassed blush crept into her cheeks. She looked away from him. 

He shrugged. “What can I say? I like to get people’s honest opinions.” He pointed to the lack of a calling card. “That’s why I don’t put my name on my pieces.”

“So, what? You just walk up to the people checking out your art and talk to them about it without telling them it’s yours?”

He gave her a cheeky smirk. “Yep, that about sums it up.”

“That is  _ awful _ ,” Katara chuckled indignantly. She gestured to the painting. “If I’d known it was yours—”

“You would’ve fed me a line of bull about only its best features and what you actually did like,” he interrupted her. “Which is exactly what I don’t like.”

“Isn’t that kind of masochistic? I’m sure there are people out there who have said worse than I did.” Her eyes widened as she replayed the conversation in her head. Katara wished the floor would open up and swallow her now. 

“Some, sure. But it’s a good way to get an honest opinion to improve my craft.” He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Eh. I won’t hold it against you. You didn’t get it.”

“I didn’t get it?” She ground her teeth. She was trying to be  _ nice _ here. “It’s not my fault you chose some...some forgotten legend.” Katara pointed to the Painted Lady. “And explain  _ her. _ ”

He considered the painting as if he had no idea what she was talking about. “What about her? I already told you the legend.”

Katara spun toward him. She gestured to the painting, and then to her own face. “You don’t see the uncanny resemblance?”

His eyes studied the painting, and then he turned toward her. He stared at her with a compelling intensity that made Katara feel like a bug under a microscope. Something in his eyes twinkled.

“I’ve seen you before,” he said slowly. “You work for my uncle, in the editing department.”

Her jaw dropped again. “So you knew who I was when you saw me standing here, didn’t you?” She pressed her hand to her forehead miserably. At least he wasn’t upset about what she had said. That could have caused a real headache for her.

“Yes.”

Katara didn’t know what to make of that. She pressed her lips into a thin line as she tried to think of what to say next. She didn’t know if she should have been flattered or angry, but right now she was a combination of both.

“You…why would you paint  _ me _ ?” Katara finally managed to say.

He shrugged again. There was a pink flush creeping up over the collar of his shirt. “I saw you there at the office one day. I’d been toying around with an idea for this painting for a while, but I like to draw inspiration from the real world for my work. Your eyes made me think of the Painted Lady. Hers were said to be as blue as the ocean.”

Katara quirked a brow. “So...you’re telling me you were able to paint  _ that _ —” She pointed to the painting. “—from memory after seeing me one time?”

“Uh...no, not exactly.” His smile was a little shy now, and more than a little sheepish. “Please don’t take this as me being a creep, but I started popping in at the office to see you again.”

Katara let out a sharp laugh. She peered sideways at him. “You know, you could have just  _ asked _ me.” She wanted to be angry—she probably  _ should _ have been angry—but it was hard to. He was getting flustered, and he seemed so genuine. Katara didn’t get the sense that he had any ill intentions.

He chuckled, the blush rising to his cheeks, as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry. I just thought that would be weird. ‘ _ Hey, I know you don’t know me, but I was wondering if you would be a model for a painting I’m working on’? _ ” He snorted. “Yeah, I’m sure that would have worked out well.”

“Fair enough, but I might have actually said yes.” Katara glanced at him from the corner of her eye, the corner of her lips pulling up into a smile. “A friend of mine from college is a photographer. I used to model for him all the time. So, it might’ve been a  _ little _ weird...but still.”

“Sorry. I just really didn’t think you would go for it.” One hand raked through his hair, mussing it up more than it already was. “I guess it’s probably a little late to ask if you’d like to be a model for another painting, huh?”

Katara looked at him, surprised again. “You’d want to paint me again?”

“Yeah, why not? I kind of wanted to do more with the Painted Lady.” He rocked back on the balls of his feet like he was nervous. Then he peered at her from the corner of his eye. “And  _ Celestial _ has been quite popular tonight. It’s already been sold.” 

Katara’s eyebrows shot to her hairline. “Seriously?” But she believed him—as they had been talking, more people had come by to look at the painting.

“Seriously. Everyone who’s stopped by has loved it. They think she—” He nodded to the Painted Lady. “—is beautiful.” He faced her then, and a proud smile flashed over his face. “I had someone else offer to pay  _ double _ for it so they could have it instead.” 

“Wow.” Katara swallowed. She was definitely flattered now. “That’s...incredible.”

“I think you’re right though, about the lighting.” His voice was low and thoughtful. He touched the shadows over the figures. “It was a little too dark here.”

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself. “I’d be happy to model for you.”

He looked down at her, clearly surprised. “Really?”

Katara smiled back at him. “Really.” She offered him her hand. “I’m Katara, by the way.”

He took it. His palm was warm against hers and there seemed to be some kind of friction between them, a feeling that sent a flutter through her stomach. Katara looked up at him.

His returning smile was a little shy again. “Zuko. It’s nice to officially meet you.”

Katara looked around the gallery before she settled her eyes back on him. Her smile had taken on a mischievous light. “Tell me, Zuko, do you think your uncle would notice if we slipped out? I think I’d like to discuss this modeling job with you some more.”

Zuko chuckled. “No, I don’t think he’d notice. There’s a little coffee shop around the corner, if you want to go.”

“I’d love to.”

Katara found herself suddenly feeling quite happy she had accepted Iroh’s invitation. Her night had taken an unexpected turn, to say the least, and she was excited to see where this venture might lead. 

And if it involved modeling for the handsome artist in front of her, Katara was certainly welcome to it.


End file.
